Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (59 page)

"But you've decided to come with us anyway?"

"My home's with the Dawn People now. And so is Shala's.
She is, after all, your granddaughter and destined to become a great shaman
herself."

"So for her sake, and for mine, you'll go, even though
your spirit calls you elsewhere?"

"Yes."

"It is your choice, Tony. I won't stand in your way if
you choose otherwise."

"I know that, Riva." He hesitated, reluctant to
tell her the rest, yet knowing he must. "There's more."

He told her then of the vision—no, it was more than a
vision, it had been realer than many of his conscious encounters—of caressing
Lily, joining with her, whispering loving words.

"And I awoke filled with love. Lily seemed like a piece
of me then." He glanced away in self-reproach. "So quickly I turned
back to hate. When I saw her following the werewolves and Shala, I immediately
assumed she was going back to her pack."

He forced himself to meet Riva's eyes, although the horror
of the barely averted outcome of his misjudgment almost overwhelmed him, and
said in a hushed tone, "If Lily hadn't been there, Shala would have joined
her mother."

"As usual, you judge yourself too harshly. You've
received the gift of greater self-knowledge. Give thanks for it."

"This is one time where ignorance feels like bliss. I
don't feel thankful at all. Another sign I failed in the shaman's way."

"You don't mean that, Tony, and you know it." Riva
straightened her back abruptly, indicating she was about to change the subject.
"Will you be Lily's advocate before the Tribunal?"

Once again Riva had guessed what was truly on his mind.

"I don't yet know."

"Time is slipping away."

"Do you have another if I refuse?"

"Only myself."

Tony nodded, then climbed to his feet. "I'll let you
know by morning."

As he turned toward the door, Riva said, "You had a
second shapeshifting experience last night, didn't you?"

Long ago he'd stopped asking Riva how she knew such things,
and now he only looked back and nodded. "It happened the same way it did
in New York. When I saw what peril Shala was in, I suddenly became the hawk. I
still have no control."

"Control will come."

"But not until I resolve my conflict?"

Rising, Riva smiled in agreement, then said, "I'll wait
for your decision. Walk in beauty."

She accompanied him down the length of the long-house,
stopping beside her loom. As Tony was about to move on, she touched his
shoulder.

"All that was foretold is not already done, Tony. The
fate of the Dawn People hangs in the balance."

"Yes," he replied somewhat impatiently. "Just
as the legends say."

Riva ignored his tone. "You have not heard it all. The
final story hasn't yet been fully written. It concerns Lily, and to amend for
not telling you of her part in our migration, I will tell you how the story
stands now. If, as you say, your feelings for her run no deeper than gratitude,
my words will be of little importance."

Tony nodded, waiting with more apprehension than he dared
admit. When the words came, he almost staggered under their weight. Of little
importance? He only wished they were.

     
* * *

Lily grabbed at a quivering tree branch, seeking leverage to
navigate a particularly steep section of the trail. She'd scraped her hand on
the scrub oak during her leap from the catwalk wall, and the rough bark made
the cuts hurt all the more. When she finally reached a flatter area, she paused
to blow on the abrasion.

Anticipating the colder weather at the top of the ridge,
she'd put on her blue jeans and the linen jacket, which were now damp with
sweat. Now she wiped her dripping forehead with the hem of the jacket, then
looked up at the dark sky. Another monsoon gale was brewing. Pulsing heat
lightning brushed the churning thunderheads with silver, and the round moon
glowed through streaks of dark clouds. Wind battered the trees clinging to the
steep wall of the canyon. Thunder periodically rumbled in the distance.

A fitting night to die.

She resumed her climb, stopping now and again to brush her
flapping hair from her eyes. Tiring, she briefly considered alchemizing to
speed her journey and heal her cuts. Although the idea tempted her, she
resisted and continued on, using the weaving branches for support whenever she
could catch one.

Finally, after an interminable climb, she arrived at the
top. The moon poured its cold light on the rain-starved grass in the meadow and
illuminated the remains of Morgan's charred and crumbling cabin. She shivered,
not only from the onslaught of the brisk, cold wind, but from the memories it
stirred.

She'd once traveled to this place through the worst
snowstorm in recent Arizona history, protected by her thick werewolf coat and
impervious to the cold of this higher altitude. She'd been filled with the
hunger then and fearful of Sebastian's censure. Her acts had been heartless.
And she was doomed to repeat them if she didn't end it now.

She shivered again, this time from apprehension. Would she
have the courage to follow through on her decision?

She didn't know. Ducking her head to ward off the chill of
the wind, she tightened her lightweight jacket around her body and hurried
south toward the Clearing of the Black Hands.

Thunder clapped and the sky lit up with jagged streaks that
ripped through the angry clouds, converging as they met the earth.

Lily stopped and stared upward, wondering if the stormy
weather was a sign the gods were judging her. How odd that she'd so badly
wanted to escape the Tribunal and was now headed to carry out the sentence they
would have undoubtedly passed.

Her options had narrowed. She couldn't live as one of them
again, and they were only here because she'd lured them. When she was gone,
they would leave. The Dawn People would know peace again. Her deepest regret
was that she'd never be able to show Shala the wonders of the mechanical world.

Tony couldn't sleep. After spending the day with a team of
men rerouting the path through the maze, he should have dropped off
immediately. But his pallet felt as hard and unyielding as his desire to punish
Lily for Tajaya's murder. Listening to the thunder and the wail of the mounting
wind, he tossed and turned, thinking about Riva's request.

Be Lily's advocate? What defense would he use? Shouldn't her
life be sacrificed to atone for Tajaya's? Or had saving Shala's been atonement
enough?

Tony rolled in his bed again, yanking irritably at his
blanket, which had gotten tangled around his legs. By all that was sacred, he
didn't want to be part of a legend. And though he'd devoted his entire adult
life to the shaman's way, at this moment he wasn't sure he wanted that either.

Surrendering to his restlessness, he got up and fetched his
hemp trousers, not sure why he was dressing or what he'd do once he had. Bear's
message came back to him, and as he left the wickiup, walking to an unknown
destination, he mulled it over. Since Tajaya died, dissatisfaction with the
People's life had troubled him.

He'd told himself he missed his wife and his disquiet sprang
from grief. But as he placed a hand on the rung of the ladder leading up to the
pueblos, barely troubled by the high wind that dogged his every step, he asked
himself if his purpose for being in Ebony Canyon had died with his wife.

She'd been his teacher as much as Riva, and though his
affection for the High Shaman ran deep, she didn't fill the void Tajaya had
left. Was Bear right? Was he truly nourishing his hatred for Lily to hide these
doubts from himself?

Yes! That's exactly what he'd been doing. In violation of
everything he'd learned from his beloved wife and her equally beloved mother,
he'd ignored the teaching, rejected the compassion that was the way of The
People, and focused all his self-deception on Lily.

The wind cooled the waves of shame that heated White Hawk's
body, and when the waves finally passed, he felt a weight lift. He climbed
faster, taking the rungs two at a time, nearing the top where Lily's quarters
were, no longer hiding his destination from himself. His answer had come. He
would defend her before the Tribunal.

A glowing smile spread over his face, and he practically
flew up the remaining rungs of the ladder.

Tony held Lily's note in his hand, fighting a reflexive
desire to crumple it in his fist. In his other hand he clutched the crystal
necklace and one of the small plastic bottles. She'd dumped them all on the
washing table, atop her hastily scrawled explanation that the gemstone belonged
to the tribe and the liquid in the bottles was deadly to werewolves. He was so
stunned by her absence—and the message within her message—that his feet felt
glued to the floor.

Breaking his paralysis, he spun around and marched out to
the walkway. He had no idea where she'd gone. Was she even now surrendering
herself to Sebastian in exchange for the Dawn People's safety? Or—

Or what? He refused to think of it.

Staring up at the churning sky, ignoring the wind that
threatened to rip his hair from its restraining thong, he struggled to find his
center, the place from which his thought-form sprang. Finally he felt energy
gather. A few minutes later the white winged shape soared into the air, screeching
a warning.

Its vision joined with Tony's and delivered images of Lily
clinging to a fragile handhold on the side of the canyon wall. Tony sped toward
the catwalk, knowing it was the only path she could have taken.

Although he'd scaled these walls many times, his pace was
brutal and by the time the cold blast at the top hit his bare chest, he was
both scratched and dripping with sweat. Ignoring his chill, he bent into the
fierce wind and broke into a sprint.

The hawk's cries had grown louder and more repetitive, and
his keen eyes brought images of Lily racing along the rim. More than a mile
behind her, Tony forced his legs to move faster, pumping them almost beyond
endurance.

Soon he saw she'd reached the path to the Clearing of the
Black Hands. Instead of going down it, she stood at the edge of the cliff, her
hair billowing around her face and shoulders. He saw her shudder, saw her lips
mouthing words the hawk could not hear. The bird dipped low, passing right
before her face. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she moved closer to the
precipice.

The earth rumbled from the assault of thunder. Flashes of
blinding light filled the sky with jagged streaks that backlit her like a
statue of an ancient dryad arising from the trees. She crept ever nearer to the
edge, now hesitating, now moving again.

Suddenly Tony understood what she meant to do. No! He
wouldn't let death rob him a second time! Forcing yet more speed from his
aching legs, he raced against the clock.

The hawk cried out once more, and suddenly Tony was soaring
with it, battling the turbulent up-and-down drafts, dropping to the ground just
as Lily prepared to take her final step. With a roar of denial, Tony resumed
his human form and snatched her from the edge.

"White Hawk!" She wrestled to free herself from
his restraining hold. "Stop it stop.
 
You don't understand."

He grabbed her pummeling hands and shook her fiercely.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, then pressed
her close to his chest.

She continued to struggle, writhing against his chilled
skin, warming it with her heat. Her hips brushed the thin fabric of his
trousers, heating his lower regions.

"Let me go, you fool," she ordered, her voice thin
and breathless. "This is for your own good . . . it's for Shala. For all
your people."

"Killing yourself won't help anyone, Lily." This
time he spoke softly, burying his face in her whipping hair. It grazed his
face, the bare skin of his shoulders, and smelled of herbs and spices and pine.
She was so tiny, barely reaching his shoulder, so fragile. Why hadn't he
realized earlier that this woman needed his protection, not his censure? He
inhaled, his breath catching, and trembled at the knowledge of how close he'd
come to losing her.

"I don't understand. Even now you save my life although
the Tribunal soon plans to take it. Why?"

"We need you." His words came out with a ragged
exhale.

"N-n-need me?" She tilted back her head, shaking
it slowly. "No one needs me, White Hawk. None of you are safe while I'm
alive. Please, please let me go. Turn around and forget you ever saw
this."

"I can't." He pulled her head back to his
shoulder. She didn't struggle this time, and he whispered in her ear,
"When I– When I found your note and realized you were gone . . . I went to
your quarters to tell you I'll be your advocate."

"Why? You still believe I killed your wife." She
was trembling now. They both were. And though the cold wind bit at their bodies
he knew that wasn't the cause.

"For many reasons. But the true reason is I—I . . . I
care about you. I'll defend you well, Lily, to my death if that's what it
takes. Trust me, if you will."

She chuckled bleakly and lifted her head, fixing her dark
gaze on him. "What makes you think you can trust me?"

"You saved my daughter's life." His golden eyes
met hers levelly. "That's enough proof."

"You don't know . . ." Lily looked away. White
Hawk's gaze held so much tenderness she could hardly bear it "Sebastian .
. . the ceremony . . ." Would he kill her when she showed him what she'd
again become. With his own hands? The ones that had combed her tangled hair the
night before and even now held her tenderly against his chest. Would he kill
her when he knew?

What did it matter how she died?

"Let me go. I need to show you something."